The Devil's Law Case (When Women Go to Law the Devil Is Full of Business) · chunk 28 of 45
Webster, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1619 [1617-1621] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Anne's Men T6 Money, debt and credit typicality 0.82 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
What's here? oh strange; I have lived this 60 years, Yet in all my practice never did shake hands With a cause so odious. Sirrah, are you her knave? No sir, I am a clerk. Why you whoreson fogging Rascal, Are there not whores enough for Presentations, Of Overseers, wrong the will o'th' Dead, Oppressions of widows, or young Orphans, Wicked Diverses, or your vicious cause Of Plus quam satis, to content a woman, But you must find new stratagems, new pursuits, Oh women, as the Ballet lives to tell you, What will you shortly come to? Your Fee is ready sir. The Devil take such Fees, And all such Suits i'th' tail of thee; see the slave Has writ false Latin: sirrah Ignorance, Were you ever at the University? Never sir: It is well known to diverse I have Commenced In a pew of our Office. Where, in a Pew of your Office? I have been dry-foundered with't this four years, Seldom found Non resident from my desk. Non resident Subsumner: I'll tear your Libel for abusing that word, By virtue of the Clergy. What do you mean sir? It cost me four night's labour. Hadst thou been drunk so long, T''dst done our Court better Service. Sir, you do forget your gravity, methinks. Cry ye mercy, do I so? And as I take it, you do very little remember, Either womanhood, or Christianitie: why do ye meddle With that seducing knave, that's good for nought, Unless' the to fill the Office full of Fleas, Or a Winter itch, wears that spacious inkhorn All a Vacation only to cure Tetters, And his Penknife to weed Corns from the splay toes, Of the right worshipful of the Office. You make bold with me sir. Woman, you're mad, I'll swear't, & have more need Of a Physician than a Lawyer. The melancholy humour flows in your face, Your painting cannot hide it: such wildsuits Disgrace our Courts, and these make honest Lawyers Stop their own ears, whilst they plead & that's the reason Your younger men that have good conscience, wear such large Nightcaps; go old woman, go pray, For Lunacy, or else the Devil himself Has ta'en possession of thee; may like cause In any Christian Court never find name: Bad Suits, and not the Law, bred the law's shame. Sure the old man's frantic. Plague on's gouty fingers, Were all of his mind, to entertain no suits, But such they thought were hottest, sure our Lawyers Would not purchase half so fast: But here's the man, Learned signior Contilupo, here's a fellow Of another piece believe't, I must make shift With the foul Copy. Business to me? To you sir, from this Lady. She is welcome. 'tis a foul Copy sir, you'll hardly read it, There's twenty double ducats, can you read sir? Exceeding well, very, very exceeding well. This man will be saved, he can read; Lord, Lord, To see, what money can do, be the hand never so foul, Somewhat will be picked out on't.
nodes 1807–1878 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 28 of 45 in this edition
Length
508 words · 713 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.824 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: T10 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Whats here? oh strange; I haue liued this 60 yeres, Yet in all my practise neuer did shake hands With a cause so odious. Sirrah, are you her knaue? No sir, I am a Clarke. Why you whorson fogging Rascall, Are there not whores enow for Presentations, Of Ouerseers, wrong the will o'th Dead, Oppressions of Widdowes, or young Orphans, Wicked Diuerses, or your vicious cause Of Plus quam satis, to content a woman, But you must find new stratagems, new pursuits, Oh women, as the Ballet liues to tell you, What will you shortly come to? Your Fee is ready sir. The Deuill take such Fees, And all such Suits i'thtayle of thee; see the slaue Has writ false Latine: sirrah Ignorance, Were you euer at the Vniuersitie? Neuer sir: It is well knowne to diuers I haue Commenc't In a Pewe of our Office. Where, in a Pew of your Office? I haue been dry-foundred with't this foure yeares, Seldome found Non resident from my deske. Non resident Subsumner: Ile teare your Libell for abusing that word, By vertue of the Clergie. What doe you meane sir? It cost me foure nights labour. Hadst thou been drunke so long, T'hadst done our Court better Seruice. Sir, you doe forget your grauitie, me thinks. Cry ye mercy, doe I so? And as I take it, you doe very little remember, Either womanhood, or Christianitie: why doe ye meddle With that seducing knaue, that's good for nought, Vnlesse 'the to fill the Office full of Fleas, Or a Winter itch, weares that spatious Inkehorne All a Vacation onely to cure Tetters, And his Penknife to weed Cornes from the splay toes, Of the right worshipfull of the Office. You make bold with me sir. Woman, yare mad, Ile swear't, & haue more need Of a Physician then a Lawyer. The melancholly humour flowes in your face, Your painting cannot hide it: such vildsuits Disgrace our Courts, and these make honest Lawyers Stop their own eares, whilst they p'ead & thats the reason Your yonger men that haue good conscience, weare such large Night-caps; go old woman, go pray, For Lunacy, or else the Deuill himselfe Has tane possession of thee; may like cause In any Christian Court neuer find name: Bad Suits, and not the Law, bred the Lawes shame. Sure the old man's franticke. Plague on's gowtie fingers, Were all of his mind, to entertaine no suits, But such they thought were hotest, sure our Lawyers Would not purchase halfe so fast: But here's the man, Learned Seignior Contilupo, here's a fellow Of another piece beleeue't, I must make shift With the foule Copie. Businesse to me? To you sir, from this Lady. She is welcom. Tis a foule Copy sir, youle hardly read it, There's twenty double duckets, can you reade sir? Exceeding well, very, very exceeding well. This man will be faued, he can read; Lord, Lord, To see, what money can doe, be the hand neuer so foule, Somewhat will be pickt out on't.